


couldn't utter my love when it counted

by lionoflannistarth (eldritch_beau)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I needed to write this, anyway we're fixing all that nonsense!, because im fucking broken yall, because its what they deserve, bigass fixit, giving Jaime and Brienne their happy ending, i want to bleach my eyes after what they did to my boy!, this last ep left me broken, we staying here in AU land fellas aint no d&d gon stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 17:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritch_beau/pseuds/lionoflannistarth
Summary: Everything is fine until Brienne receives a letter from Tarth."Come at once,”Lord Selwyn’s hasty handwriting reads, “We need you at Evenfall, come at once.”





	couldn't utter my love when it counted

The raven arrives a week  _after_.  In the aftermath of the new rule that has settled over Westeros, the raven arrives on the eighth day, a little after sunset.  And as soon as he reads it, the Grand Maester rushes to find the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, to deliver the letter to her firsthand.

It is a while before he finds her, guarding the boy king, Brandon Stark.

“This came for you, Ser” he tells her ardently, “it sounds quite urgent, if I may.”

 _And he is right_ , she realizes as she reads the letter twice over.

“ _ **Come at once** ,_” Lord Selwyn Tarth’s hasty handwriting reads, “ _ **We need you at Evenfall, come at once**_.”

“What could this be about?”

King Bran is the first to respond, “seems you have no choice but to go and find out” he says, his eyes the same vacant yet all-knowing. It unnerves Brienne still, though she is loathe to admit it aloud.

“Your Grace, I—” she starts to object but the king is determined.

“Ser Podrick will be The Lord Commander on your stead, Ser Brienne. You should go.” Bran locks eyes with her, wise; surely knowing something that she did not, “And then you must choose.” he adds rather cryptically to Brienne's disdain.

“Very well then, your Grace.” The Lord Commander bows, taking her leave to go make preparations for the upcoming journey.

\--

Brienne sails for Tarth at first light, with a small crew and a swift ship. Her father had not bothered to elaborate further and that only elevates her worry. She tries to think of the worst-case scenarios but for the life of her, she can’t understand  _why_ her father wouldn’t write more of it. Being the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is stressful enough. She is fraught with worry if there has been a siege, if her father is taken ill, if pirates have attacked, if anything that _can_ go wrong has gone wrong... she wills herself to not worry but her mind is a treacherous thing. It wanders. It weaves its ways through the worst of it and often she finds him.

Jaime. Jaime who still haunts her dreams at night, even though she dare not think of him in the daylight; not for all the pain, his memory brings with it. 

But he is dead now. Gone.  _Died protecting his Queen_ , she remembers writing in the White Book, her fingers grazing the book, aching his pages to be him instead, in flesh and blood. What wouldn’t she give to have him alive… what wouldn't she give to have those white blank pages and scores of deeds be replaced by him instead, the actual him, the good the bad all of it...  _all of him_. 

 _But he made his choice, he chose his sister_ a voice tells her, _you have to respect that._  She had been tasked with filling his pages but it took her a while before she let herself pick up the pen and write it. She tried. She tried to give him that much, to tells his story not as others saw it, not even as he saw it himself. But the truth as she saw it firsthand. Perhaps even personally and intimately. And honorably. She will do him this last deed, pay him this debt despite everything that had gone sour between them those last few moments she had with him.

He’s still the one who gave her the knighthood, the sword she carries on her hips, the armour that protects her breast. He didn’t make her who she was, no, that she did herself. But he  _believed_  in her when no one else did. And for a while, made her believe that she could love him, and  _be loved_  by him too. 

Someday she might learn to bury him, to let him go. But until she can't, at least not yet. And until she is strong enough to put him in the past, she will give him the epilogue that he deserved, even if he didn't think he deserved it himself. So she wrote his final chapter and hoped that maybe posterity will be kinder to him than he had been to himself.

He permeates the walls she holds up high and sometimes it gets  _too_  much. And alone in the safety of her quarters that in the dark of the night, Brienne sobs as quietly as she can. It's hard to hold it back, after having shared so much so freely with someone. To put herself back together and fail every other night more so. So she sheds her tears till grief makes her dizzy and unconscious, till sleep claims what’s left of her. The morning is none the wiser.

Sailing is lonely without her kingsguard duties to distract herself from her misery, but after four days of nervous sailing, she is finally home. Surprisingly enough, her father Selwyn Tarth greets her at the port, a confused yet relieved smile on his face.

He hugs his daughter, pulling her feet off the ground in his warm embraces before putting her down again, all grin and paternal love evident on his face.

“There has been a man,” he tells her, wasting no time, “rescued by our traders sailing from Blackwater Bay. We found him just outside of Massey’s Hook, badly injured and half unconscious.”

“I’m no maester father,” she shrugs, walking in pace with him, "I can’t save him, you should’ve specifically asked for a city maester."

“We have Maester Erowyn, that’s not why you’re here.”

“Then why  _am I_  here?”

"Can't a man want to see his own daughter?"

Brienne scowls familiarly at her father who only laughs.

"Anyway, this man has spoken only  _one_  word, repeatedly for the entirety of the time he has been here on the Sapphire Isles, little one” Lord Selwyn shoots his daughter a curious look, “he keeps saying your name.”

 _“_ What? _”_

“the man keeps whispering ‘ _Brienne_ ’ in his sleep, in his fever dreams. That’s all he says.” Lord Selwyn shrugs, “I wondered if you know him, because if you do-”

“How many hands does he have?” she blurts, stopping to face her father dead in the eyes.

It’s as if some kind of realization dawned on his father’s face. But Brienne doesn’t wait for him to answer. Her father’s pause is enough.

 _“Where is he?”_  Brienne interrupts; her heart is drumming against her ribcage. She  _dare not hope_. It could be anybody, she tells herself,  _it could be anybody at all_. 

But  _who else_  could it be?

“Grand Maester Erowyn’s chambers” her father’s voice fades in the back as she is running now, racing towards the castle, the wind throwing her hair against her face. Through the cold castle walls, the winding staircases, the twists and turns of the familiar halls until she arrives, breathless at the Maester’s door.

“Lady Brienne!” she has known Maester Erowyn since her childhood but his voice sounds worlds away now, so distant.

She can see the silhouette, the structure of the broken body on the bed and the resemblance scares her. Gods, it could be him,  _is it him?_   She rushes to this stranger’s side, brushing the tangled mess of hair out of his face as her heartbeat thumps in her ears, her hands shaking.

 _Mother give me strength_ , she begs, sinking to her knees on the cold stone floor, it  _is_  him.

Jaime looks ragged, broken, his cheek sunken in and hollows of his eyes are darker. The hair is unruly and the beard is even more of a mess but Brienne doesn’t care. His lips are still trembling and if you listen closely, you can hear the soft “Brienne”s whispered in strange intervals. The sound of her name on his dying lips makes her heart clench, her throat tighten with relief and grief and everything in between. 

By some godforsaken mercy... it  _is_  him.  _Jaime, her Jaime_. At that moment she feels so much joy, she could cry. She traces his face gently with her fingers, still in disbelief. He looks bonier now, sickly even with all these bandages all over him.

A soft sob escapes her lips and Brienne grabs his head between her hands, kissing his forehead out of the sheer need to hold him; and the touch of his skin against her lips comforts her so.

“ _Brienne?_ ” his whisper is rougher now, a bit louder and it takes everything she has for Brienne not to fall apart right then and there.

“yes, I’m here Jaime I’m here.” She manages to say through choked sobs, before turning to Maester Erowyn, her eyes glazing with tears.

“How long has it been?”

“About two weeks now, my lady,” He relays the information, “when we found him, he had stab wounds all over, he would’ve either bled to death or died of dehydration on the open sea if the traders hadn’t found him.”

“Will he be alright?”

The Maester shifts his weight uncomfortably, “it’s hard to say, My Lady. His fever hasn’t broken still. If it doesn’t break in two nights… then I’m afraid—”

“It will break.” Brienne wishes she felt as sure as she sounded.

\--

For two nights, Brienne sits by his bed, never leaving his side. Sometimes his whispers get louder, desperate like he’s trying to claw his way out of his nightmares, but then it recedes; and Jaime collapses all over again, never opening his eyes. The Maester gives the best potions he can, but he fears that despite the fact that his infections seem to be healing if he doesn’t regain consciousness the next day, all hope might just be lost.

She prays to the Seven. To the Mother to heal him, to the Stranger too, to not take him away from her. And most of all to the Warrior, to give him strength. She feels helpless, sitting by his side, watching,  _waiting_ ; for him to either live or die. It’s unnerving as it is, so she prays, she hopes.

Brienne also tries not to cry. She had talked to her father, confirmed Lord Selwyn’s suspicions that the man he held in Evenfall was indeed Jaime Lannister. Her father also obliges when she requests that this whole thing be kept quiet. She doesn’t, however, explain  _why_  it was her name Jaime kept saying on his deathbed. She doesn’t know if she can think of it without breaking apart, now that she’s so close to losing him all over again. So she stays by his side instead, keeping watch, holding his left hand gently in her grasp, falling asleep only by his side when her own head feels too heavy for her shoulders.

\--

“Brienne?” she hears his voice.  _He is dreaming again_ , she thinks, her head rested on the side of his bed and her eyes closed,  _or maybe I am_.

 _Hmm?_   She wants to reply but her response dies on the tip of her tongue, swallowed by sleep.

“Brienne.” The tone is a little different, hoarse and shaky instead of a soft whisper. And then she feels a soft squeeze in her left hand, the one that’s entwined with Jaime’s…. and her eyes fly open.

“Jaime?” she sits upright, urgency in her eyes as she searches his half-open green irises that catching yellow in the stray rays of sunlight.  _He is awake_ , she thinks. And it feels like a huge boulder has been lifted off her chest, “Jaime you’re awake!”

“water” he croaks out, and she immediately helps him up, holding the glass to his lips as he drinks. His left hand stays where it was, still carefully entwined with hers.

“I… better get the Maester” she almost disentangles her fingers from his but she stops the second she feels a tug.

“No, please,” his half-lidded eyes are on her face, searching for something she can’t fully comprehend, until he almost begs in a shaky voice, “Stay with me.”

Wordlessly, she nods.

“I thought you were a dream…” he breathes, lost in those sapphire pools of her eyes, “I am still unsure… is this a dream?”

“No, you’re awake Jaime, it’s real.” Her hand cups his face, and he leans into her touch. It’s gentle, its warm and Jaime’s nerves relax just a little.

“Gods, I’ve missed that” he breathes, shallow and hoarse. And when he looks at her, she swears she could see a thousand turmoil in his eyes before he says, “and I’ve… missed you.”

“It’s good to see you alive,” Brienne tries to keep her voice even but she’s never been too good at this anyway, “I thought you died… with Cersei.”

He shifts his gaze from her face now, almost shamefully. “I did.” he says in an indecipherable voice. Jaime sits up straighter now, wincing a bit (“where does it hurt?” she sounds worried and he just shakes his head in response).

“I suppose a part of me died in the Red Keep with her.” He looks distressed as he declares that, but then his shoulders seem to slouch in a bit of relief and Brienne can’t understand what to make of that.

“Jaime…” she allows herself to ask, despite her fears. He has broken her trust, he had left her to cry and weep all my herself on a cold winter night. And _yet_. And yet. She will give him the benefit of the doubt, “what happened?” she asks.

“Cersei…” his face contorts in disgust and then misery , “I went to kill her to end this madness but when I found her, she was so  _afraid_  with the walls of her castle crumbling all around her, my defiant sister. so afraid to die. I couldn't do it." he swallows uncomfortably, "I ended up holding her, comforting her instead.” There’s a long pause before he continues, “I thought that would be the last of me.”

“it wasn't.” her voice is small but he is encouraged by that.

"I suppose not," he says with a ghost of a smile on the curve of his lips before realizing that she's waiting for him to go on. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“Davos found me first, under the rumble." he says, "‘Go, go run’ he told me as he led me through the tunnels, ‘if the Dragon Queen finds you, you will be ashes like the rest of the city, dead twice over.’ So I ran. I took a dinghy out to the Blackwater Bay but…. I could barely row with one hand and with the stab wounds and everything... I don’t know how far I made it until…” Jaime blinks a couple of times, trying to remember, “until now. it’s all a blur, a mess. I know I was picked up, and then I was dropped here… I don’t know. I heard someone say ‘Tarth’ and it made me think of you… I haven’t stopped thinking of you since.”

Jaime raises the stump of his hand, still refusing to untangle his fingers from Brienne’s, and he almost touches her face before thinking better of it, like he’s afraid to encroach upon her space, “Where are we? How did you know where to find me?”

“You’re in Tarth. My lord father sent me a letter that… that a man was here... who...”

“Who?”

“Who kept calling my name in his fever” Brienne’s cheeks are turning red again, and she shifts her gaze away from his as she shakes her head, “so he sent for me.”

“oh, makes sense.” From the corner of her eye she can see Jaime nod, his voice smaller than before, “you’re all I’ve been dreaming about lately”

“Jaime don’t do that”

“do what?”

“You…” Brienne musters the courage from the pain that she’s been festering inside, “you  _left_. You went south to fight in the war, or save your sister because you love her and I understand why you had to do it, I  _understand_  why you felt that you needed to save the people of King’s Landing all over again, even your sister. You love her and I understand that. But please, please don’t pretend you..." she flounders for the right word, a neutral word, ".. _hold any affection_ for me, you don't have to.”

A flash of pain crosses Jaime’s eyes that she wishes she had missed. It would make all of this so much easier.

"Hold any affection" he says, ever so slowly like he's tasting the words in his mouth and they had tasted bitter.

She doesn't respond, doesn't know how to. She avoids his gaze, trying to feel justified in her heartache, to push down that yearning bubbling inside her. He was alive ( _he was not hers,  he never was_ she thinks woefully) but he was alive and that will have to do. And yet there's this pained look on Jaime's face and she loathes the idea of her words causing him any pain. Even after he's rejected her, ever after she pleaded him to stay and he didn't. She still yearns for him and half hates herself for it.

“Brienne… I didn’t leave because I _loved_ her. I do love her, will love her always but not like _that_ anymore. I went to her as her brother, her twin, the one who has to be the one to stop her. I couldn’t let her burn King’s Landing like she burned the Sept of Baelor.” Jaime’s voice softens, “I wouldn't betray you, Brienne. I would  _never_ betray you, I thought you knew that.”

"I didn't know anything except what you told me," She gives a careful shake of her head, still avoiding his eyes. She's afraid of what she might find there. If he's sincere, she will break and it will make this all the more difficult, "all you said was she was hateful, and so were you."

"I am hateful, yes. Of all the things she has done." Jamie gulps, "of all the things I have done. For her. I had to be the one to stop her, to end that cycle of hate."

"Well, you could've just said that instead" Brienne shrugs, still refusing the indulge in how her heart started thrumming when he said _I would never betray you_. Stupid, stupid hope was welling inside her and she hated herself for it.

“I was on a suicide mission,” Jaime continues, his eyes blazing in agony and dare she hope for she'd rather be mistaken-- _longing_ , “I didn’t know if I was going to live. I was sure I was going to die. And the least I could do was not condemn you to love a dead man.”

“We don’t get to choose who we love” she responds and it right about it knocks the air out of his lungs.

Jaime blinks twice, waiting for her to meet his gaze but she doesn’t. _I didn’t choose her Brienne_ , he wants to tell her, _I chose you. I chose to save you from her, even if it meant giving my life for that._ But her eyes are so blue, even if she’s looking away and they’re glassy and Jaime has to tell her something he never thought he might get to tell her at all,

“You know what my last thought was before the stones knocked me out cold?”

Her eyes meet his as if prompting him to answer the question himself.

“I thought…” Jaime continues, gazing unflinchingly into her  _astonishing_  blue eyes, “I really wish I had kissed you one last time.”

The room is as silent as a crypt; and all Jaime feels is the growing distance between them, and the stab of remorse as his senses are coming back to him proper.

“I’m sorry Brienne,” he shakes his head shamefully, his voice gloomy with grief as he rambles on, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I am ashamed to even ask for it…so I won't.” he swallows, “I just want you to know. I wish I didn't have to go back to King's Landing, but I had to face my darkest demon, I had to face  _Cersei_.”

Brienne half nods, still not meeting his gaze and Jaime feels forlorn. He grips her with as much strength his feeble body will allow him and inches his face closer to her, desperate to convey his truth.  _Look at me woman_ , he almost begs,  _don’t turn your eyes away from me_.

“I regret leaving you in the cold. I wish I hadn’t done that, but I wanted you to hate me, I couldn’t have you following me or I’d lead you to your certain death. You would have followed me if you knew, woudln't you?" And when she nods reluctantly, Jaime continues, "Walking away from you has been the hardest thing I've done, would you believe it? It hurt more than the ton of bricks that almost killed me. But I would take ten thousand more if it means I could take it all back.” he shakes his head remorsefully, “I shouldn’t have gone about it the way I did, I shouldn’t have left without explaining my motives to you, Brienne. But I feared you might insist on coming with me, stubborn as you are. And I feared I might not have had the resolve to stop you either.” His voice breaks, “You have been the one good thing I’ve loved in this wretched life of mine. I wouldn’t want you to pay for my sins.”

The silence returns to the room and Jaime tries to look at her again but her expression is unreadable, and his heart sinks.

“I understand if you want to never see me again, My Lady. Ser. As soon as I’m able to walk I’d be out of your hair, and you’ll never have to see me again, I promise.” He bows his head, voice still uneven, “I certainly thought I’d never see you again and I have long tried to my peace with that”. Her refusal to look him in the eyes hurts infinitely more than any blade ever could. _I should be dead_ , he thinks, _I don’t deserve this life and I definitely don’t deserve her_. 

He tries to smile halfheartedly when he raises his head again but it doesn’t form on his lips. “I thank the fates that it brought me to Tarth for one last glimpse of y—”

Her chair scrapes against the stone floor and suddenly, her lips are on his, shutting him up. Jaime kisses her back fervently, eagerly like she is the only one who can unbreak his heart, pull him back to life. His chapped lips are rough against her smooth ones and she tastes good and pure and his tongue is in her mouth, hungry for more…  _gods, she is warm_ , even better than he remembers and her fingers are in his hair, it’s soothing, it's perfect and Jaime feels like if there was ever any heaven, surely this must be it.

When she breaks away from the kiss, Jaime almost leans forward, weak but hungry for more.

“There you go, your death-wish fulfilled” Brienne side-eyes him, but  _she’s smiling?_

“I’d take seven more deaths if you’d kiss me each time.”

“Don’t push it, Jaime, I’m still mad at you” she warns but there’s that tone of playful exasperation in her voice.

“Can you come be mad at me a little closer? I wasn’t done kissing you”

That familiar smirk is back on his face and it makes Brienne's heart swell in embarassing ways so she involuntarily rolls her eyes as she says, “Oh do shut up”

“ _make me_ ” he challenges, knowing very well (hoping desperately, too) that she will rise to meet the provocation. She has never been one to shy away from a challenge

And so she kisses him again, this time gentler, softer _, slower_. And when they break away, they’re both gasping for air.

“I can’t believe it” Brienne whispers, her fingers tracing soothing circles in his hair as he hugs her tight, relishing in the feel of her in his arms.

 _Hmmm?_  Jaime prompts.

“I thought you were dead, I wrote in the White Book for you.”

“Really? Did you write about how good I am at kissing you? and  _other_ things? Or did you write about how I knighted  _the most_  deserving woma--”

“No, I wrote that you died saving the Queen.”

Jaime pulls back a little, “well,  _true_  but if anything… I died making sure the Queen was dead.”

Brienne pauses for a long time, thinking her words over before she finally says, "I'm sorry about your sister. I know you love her."

"I loved her," he reminds her carefully, "but I'd long stopped _loving_ her before she became this poisonous person. I was too blinded before and I would have followed her anywhere back when. But it was my _sister_ , not my lover (he feels Brienne try to contain her flinch at the word and his eyes softens at her attempt at kindness) not anything else but my twin. My sister, who I went to kill her in the Red Keep. She was the sister I didn't want to lose, but who would have killed millions, killed _you_ if she was not stopped. I wish she wasn't dead, I wish she wasn't vile but it's her hatred that sent her to her death and somehow I'm still alive and I'd rather be alive every day than be dead with her. I loved her, but she threatened to kill you and she wouldn't stop until she achieved that goal and I can't. I can't let her hurt you. Never you." He buries his face in her tunic, his words muffled by her shirt but seeping into her chest, hammering into her ribs.

"She ordered to have me killed?"

"She sent Bronn. He deflected to our side, but.." Brienne can hear the genuine fear in his voice, "she would send another sellsword, and then another... she'd never stop her attempts on your life, and I can't have _you_ be in danger for my sins. I had to stop her, Brienne. I'm sorry I left, I broke your trust and I don't expect you to forgive me or trust me again, but you're alive and Cersei can't touch you anymore... I take the least bit of happiness in knowing that you are safe from her now. And that she can never hurt you ever again. I regret the hurt all of this has caused you, I wish I knew of a better way to go about this, but I... I..."

"shhh" Brienne holds him closer, shushing his breaking voice and comforting him. They have been through a lot, and they will have to have a longer talk to decide where they stand, but Brienne hopes it can't be too bad, his motivations had been pure and she can't hate him for wanting to save her, even if she hated the hurt all of it had caused, "it's alright, Jaime.You're alive”

She pauses before trailing off, “nobody is Westeros knows you’re alive…”

It’s a beat before he replies, “good.”

“good?”

“I’m just saying… “ Jaime looks up at her, craning his neck to meet her liquid blue eyes, “Jaime Lannister is dead. Casterly Rock is as empty as a begging bowl, and so are my riches, my titles or the lands that my father wanted for me. My family is gone. ( _Is Tyrion alive?_  He asks and Brienne nods. Jaime breathes a sigh of relief) Well, Tyrion can come visit me if he wants, but I don’t want to go back. Not now,  _not ever_. I am done. With King’s Landing, Westeros... the whole rotten lot of it. I am done, Brienne.”

She understands what he means, her eyes never leaving his. “so what will you do now?”

“will you let me stay here?”

Brienne smiles, ruffling his hair, “I’m sure my father Lord Selwyn won’t have any problems having the famed knight of Westeros, Ser Jaime Lannister stay in Tarth.”

Jaime pauses for a second like he decided against saying something at the last moment. But then he says it anyway. His voice is rather small when he asks, “will you stay here, for a while?  _With me?”_

Brienne cradles his head, there's that faint glistening in her eye and for a second Jaime fears the  _worst_.

But then she just plants a swift kiss between his brows “of course I will,” she promises, resting her forehead against his.

It helps steady him, knowing she is here, that she loves him, maybe even almost as much as he loves her. It feels like a new awakening, a new life to start over in some sort of way. His is white blank page now, in ways a man reborn.  _Kingslayer, Kingsguard, Heir Of Casterly Rock..._  its all in the past, buried in the rubble of the Red Keep with his sister. 

The only thing that carries him now is this freedom to love. To love _freely_. His love for Tyrion, his love for Brienne.  Maybe one of these days, if fate be kind, he’ll ask Lord Selwyn permission to marry Brienne, who knows. The future is bold, but it is still in the future. Right now he’s in her arms, and she’s with him,  _loving him_.

 _And that’s all I need really_ , Jaime thinks,  _this much will do_.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 1:27AM because i'm a sucker for closure and I want to give JB the most i can even if it this bare minimum of the happy ending that they really deserve. I enjoyed writing it, I hope you liked it tho!


End file.
